


Lights Aglitter in the Evening

by Inksinger



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Gift Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 22:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16313795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inksinger/pseuds/Inksinger
Summary: In the dead of night, Arthas Menethil found himself locked in desperate combat.





	Lights Aglitter in the Evening

**Author's Note:**

> A quick birthday gift for my dear friend and chief best worst muse, Triskaideka.
> 
> Now I know when your birthday is and can plan something bigger for next year. Muahaha.

In the dead of night, Arthas found himself locked in desperate combat.

Sweat dripped along the line of the crown prince's nose and gleamed all across his furrowed brow, glittering dimly in the firelight as he scowled across the field of battle. His already white-knuckled grip tightened down about his hammer, and his ocean-green eyes darted from one potential avenue of attack to the next as he awaited the next onslaught of blade-wielding savages.

True, his foes this time were only gnolls - hardly as intimidating to look at as a war band of green-skinned orcs with eyes that blazed like smoldering coals - but gnolls were vicious in their own way, brutally efficient pack hunters with razor-sharp claws and jaws stronger than the average warg, made deadlier yet by their near-sentience and ability to properly wear and wield the gear they stripped from their human prey. Only a fool underestimated a pack of gnolls on the hunt, and Arthas Menethil was no--

Metal struck metal, and an instant later the first of the gnolls sprung from the shadows, its stolen sword dancing madly about as Arthas spun to engage the creature. His hammer swung in a graceful arc about his body as he brought it around to shatter the gnoll's ribs… and continued smoothly on, connecting not at all as the gnoll ducked out of the way at the last second.

Arthas snarled as he watched the beast scurry back into the safety of the shadows, but he had no time to pursue it; more of the gnoll’s pack had arrived, seeking no doubt to capitalize on the distraction caused by their fellow, and Arthas was forced to turn his attention to the larger, more immediate threat.

Again his hammer flew, and this time there came the satisfying jolt of a solid blow as the weapon caved the skull of the nearest gnoll and sent it tumbling bonelessly out of the firelight. Arthas did not stop, instead allowing his momentum to carry him to the next opponent - but it seemed his victory was to be short-lived, for once again his target danced nimbly out of reach before Arthas could complete his third swing.

Another gnoll cackled behind him, and he whirled again with a furious shout, but yet again his hammer carved through open air. It seemed the pack had already worked out how best to avoid a sudden, messy death at his hands, and now, with the exception of the one he had felled, entire gathering of gnolls danced and yipped in circles around him, always appearing just behind his shoulder and vanishing again before he could retaliate.

Arthas roared in frustration, but the display did nothing even to discourage his furry tormentors from their antics. Gnolls were not so intelligent as orcs, let alone humans, but it was becoming increasingly clear that _this_ pack was more than clever enough to have made a game of taunting their human adversary, and to mock him for each swing that failed to crush their fuzzy little faces.

He was swiftly running out of time; though his stamina held, he knew it was only a matter of time before the gnolls’ game came to an end, and he would be damned if he let it end on _their_ terms. With a final, despairing cry, he led for the nearest gnoll, thrusting his hammer forward and catching it straight in the throat just as the sound of a metal bell rang loud and long across the clearing.

“Two small fry - two points!” The goblin game master cried.

Arthas growled and straightened, switching to a one-handed grip on his wooden mallet and letting it swing loosely at his side as magelights sprung to life around the enclosure, chasing away the eternal shadows of Darkmoon Isle and casting the Whack-A-Gnoll arena in swaths of garish orange, green, and purple light.

The hard-packed dirt floor of the game area sported several new scuffs and gouges from Arthas’ frenzied attempts to murder the automated gnoll dummies strewn about the enclosure. Meanwhile, the two dummies he _had_ managed to strike were now flopped brokenly over the edges of the oversized barrels from which they had sprung, likely too damaged to be put into play again without first receiving some extensive repairs.

The goblin grinned atop his perch on a high platform near the entrance to the enclosure as Arthas stalked away from the carnage, and leaned down to offer the paladin two scraps of lurid purple paper.

“Good for two tickets,” the goblin said. “Better luck next time, champ.”

Arthas grit his teeth and took a moment to remind himself that there would be no ticket prize if he turned his cheap, comically unbalanced mallet on the game master - though he remained very keenly aware of its weight in his hand as he snatched the tickets from the goblin’s grubby little hand, and wondered somewhat morbidly if the goblin would bounce, should he decide to hit the bloody creature after all.

A pair of slender hands came to rest against his arm as he stood scowling at the tickets between his fingers. The touch was feather-light but insistent, and Arthas growled as he reluctantly handed the mallet back to the game master.

“It's fine, Arthas,” Jaina said, smiling as he turned to look sullenly down at her. “It's just a carnival game.”

“Easy for you to say,” Arthas grumbled, though he snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her close to his side. “You aren't the one who just got humiliated by a bunch of spring-loaded pillows.”

“Yeah,” the goblin cackled above them, “that was pretty bad, pal. I've seen better scores from kids half your age!”

Arthas felt his eye twitch, and dimly noted the flicker of resignation across Jaina's features as he turned to scowl up at the impudent little green rat grinning down at him.

“Another round,” Arthas grated out through his teeth.

“Sure thing, buddy,” the goblin laughed. “Two more tokens. Maybe you'll get… another two tickets!”

Arthas all but flung the round wooden tokens at the little nuisance in response, and when he accepted the mallet he snatched it so forcefully he nearly dislodged the goblin from his seat outright.

“Arthas…” Jaina sighed behind him.

Arthas ignored her and stalked back into the game area, eyes narrowed as he raised his mallet and waited for the round to start. Now that he had bungled through a first attempt, he was certain he could best this cheap--

The bell rang, and Arthas whirled about on instinct, swinging his hammer around and striking the first gnoll almost before it could finish popping up from its barrel.

He let his momentum carry him to the next gnoll, and brought his hammer down diagonally for another kill - only to realize a second too late that the barrel he had targeted was still inert, leaving him swinging at empty air with far too much force. He swore and tried to pull his swing, but that only threw his balance off and sent him staggering sideways into another barrel.

He dimly registered the sound of gears clicking together, and then the breath was driven from his lungs as the barrel he landed against spat its straw-stuffed gnoll dummy directly into his ribs. The blow forced him back at an awkward angle, and before he could recover his balance Arthas tripped over his own feet and hit the ground in a heap.

His body rattled with the impact; through the ringing in his ears, he swore he could hear Jaina's voice rise in a concerned shout - and he _definitely_ heard the damnable little goblin guffawing at him as he hauled himself onto his knees and groped about for his mallet.

“Aw, did you fall down?” the goblin sneered, just as Arthas’ hand closed around the grip of the hammer. “C'mon, c'mon, the round’s half over!”

Arthas’ vision went red.

*

By the time the dust cleared, all but one of the dummies had been utterly obliterated. Half of their barrels were smashed beyond all usability, and somewhere along the way the goblin’s platform had suffered a major loss of structural integrity after one barrel was (quite accidentally, of course) kicked into its base, resulting in the whole thing toppling to the side and flinging the game master several yards.

On the bright side, Arthas had performed well enough - or else terrified the goblin game master thoroughly enough - to earn a total of fifty tickets, which turned out to be more than enough to exchange for the small, stuffed toy rabbit Arthas had seen Jaina staring longingly at earlier that evening. Fortunately, he'd been able to sneak away to buy the rabbit behind her back while she was busy unearthing the goblin from the pile of small children he'd tumbled into.

Unfortunately, he returned just in time for Jaina to turn around and lecture him about _property damage_ and _good judgment_ and _not causing bodily harm to others just because they were annoying twits,_ and she refused to let him interrupt her until she had said her piece.

The second she paused to breathe, Arthas pulled the rabbit out from where he'd been forced to hide it behind his back and held it out to her. The sight of it alone completely derailed whatever else Jaina might have been about to say, and she took it from him with a faintly bemused expression.

“You noticed,” she said after a moment, as though she was somehow startled by the idea that Arthas was capable of noticing when his fiancée was rendered starstruck by a stuffed animal. Her wide blue eyes remained locked incredulously on the rabbit as she spoke.

“That you zeroed in on it from across the faire?” Arthas teased, stepping close and putting a gentle hand on her arm. “Yes, that managed to catch my attention.”

Jaina snorted and looked up at him with a grin that set her nose wrinkling, and Arthas swore he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight. He _adored_ her little nose wrinkle… and the faint flush across her cheeks… and the way her hair caught the torchlight of the faire…

“You know, this still doesn't excuse… that,” Jaina said, her voice drawing him from his reverie as she gestured with one hand at the ruins of the Whack-A-Gnoll arena.

Arthas frowned, but before he could open his mouth to respond, Jaina rose up onto her toes and pressed a quick, playful kiss to his lips, her eyes sparkling mischievously all the while.

“…But I suppose I can forgive a little unnecessary carnage,” she added as she stepped back again. “Just this once.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Arthas said, and pulled her back in for a proper kiss.


End file.
